Same Skies
by Ombree
Summary: So long as they live under the same sky their story never ends. Collection of short works set in the canon world.
1. Role Reversal

I have a collection of AU stories. Now I got one for canon world stories kek.

* * *

Title: Role Reversal  
Prompt: Where Sakura has not yet came back (late to her expected arrival date) from her A-rank mission. could you try giving it a humorous twist?  
Idea: Anon on Tumblr

* * *

Twenty-four hours late. This isn't a concern—not yet—and that's why he turns on his heel when it becomes obvious she's not coming home today. It's an A rank mission. Nothing she couldn't handle. It's not abnormal for it to take a bit longer than normal.

It's not as though he needs to greet her when she returns. She's capable.  
— _far more than him or the blonde in most occasions._

That doesn't mean much though when he just heads to the gate to great her. Role reversal in a sense. She's always greeted him home, and now he's following that pace she's set.

Footsteps forward, and hours later. Sleep comes some time right after.

Mundane and quite that's his days when he's not accepting missions. Sweat drenched upon the training grounds, and small trips to the market for the bare minimum in the evenings.

It's was twenty-four hours at the start, and then it's forty-eight. Seventy-two hours later, and there's truly no need to feel concern.

She's strong. She doesn't need him to play protector especially over a little tardiness—punctual or not it happens to everyone.

 _That doesn't mean it isn't starting to develop._

Only when it hits one-hundred and twenty hours later and that small unnerving feeling in his stomach begins its dull ache as he stares at the gates does he start to question things. The crowd of people are going here and there, but there's zero sign of anything pale rose, and sea foam green. The shift of weight from one hip to the other, and a tilt of his head. Inhalation and then the twist of his lips before he's turning back upon that hill as he has every day he's expected her back.

No. He's _not_ concerned.  
 _This is Sakura Haruno._

She'll be just fine on a rank A mission.

The subconscious drum of his leg as he eats his food is never even noticed, and then sleep right after.

Decorated in sleep and half aware it's the morning after and the rubbing of the pad of his hand against his eyes. A yawn following as eyes drag their way to the light that spills through the middle of the mostly closed curtains. His brain feels fuzzy but that's like most mornings.

He eats the smallest of breakfasts.  
He's got one hand what more do you expect from him.

 _Anything more is a waste of effort_.

His mind unconsciously checking upon the clock without reason. Every second that hand is ticking has that ache pulsing. There's no reason for concern. He'll see if she arrived deep within the night.

The question falls and there's an irritation as the gate's attendant drags his finger across the pages. She's pale rose, and sea foam green—it's not hard to miss. There's no real reason to check if they're all being open and honest with themselves.

She's well liked, and appreciated by anyone he's ever spoken to—not that he speaks to many. They'd know if she had returned.

The attendant barely has a moment to open his mouth before they're shut down by a voice that comes from behind him. This does nothing more than increase that building frustration.

The roll of his head comes as he sets his eyes on those blues brimming with absolute mischievousness. Mouth twitching and the grinding of teeth comes before he's opening he's addressing him, "What is it Naruto?"

"Lookin' for Sakura-chan?" lips turned up and eyes absolutely calling him out, "She's not back yet."

"Whatever." there's a huff that falls making it clear he doesn't enjoy whatever tease this blonde is conjuring forth.

Shifting around and hand nestled back within his pocket, and he's doing everything to maintain a strong stride. Footsteps behind him make it clear the blonde has no desire to let him off the hook just yet.

"She'll be back before you know. No need to get so concerned." there's a rhythm and a tune to his voice.

"I'm not concerned."

"Teme, you've checked the gate everyday she's been late."

"How would you know?" it's a hiss if anything.

"Who doesn't know?" he's no longer willing to shuffle behind taking in Sasuke's pace and walking beside him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he refuses to look anywhere but at him—that random civilian walking past him, that shop that he's never even considered walking into, or even that restaurant Kakashi's taken them to once or twice are far more appealing in this moment.

"What doesn't it mean?" there's a chuckle following this throwback of his.

"Naruto, unless you have something you need I'm going home." he's not friendly in the way he makes it clear he's done and over this roundabout conversation.

"Oh, come on. It's interesting seeing you guys reverse roles." he stops firm raising his arms and placing them behind his head.

He finally looks at him not comprehending what the blonde's getting at, "Reverse role?"

"Well yeah, Sakura-chan is always waiting on you to come home. Now you're a fidgeting mess waiting on her for once." he's beaming as he says it so lightheartedly.

His lips press firm at the comment and there's an even greater aggravation in feeling like he's being ridiculed by Naruto of all people. He wants to bite back but that's an even greater waste of time then making a large breakfast.

A wave of his hand dismisses him from this game he feels like Naruto's trying to con him into playing. Scrolls and food upon his dinner table as the sun is setting and he can't help but feel as if the irritation is shifting and molding as his eyes flicker to the wall clock. That subconscious drum of his knee is all the more apparent. It's faster as that irritation turned to aggravation sets in with Naruto, of all people, getting in his head.

 _Role reversal_?  
This is a role reversal?

 _Did she do this_?  
Did she check everyday?

He hasn't checked everyday that she's been delayed— _that's an outright lie_.  
It's not like she needs him to greet her at the gate anyways— _it doesn't lessen the fact he feels i_ _t_ _s part of what they do_.

She greets him every time without fail. He wants to greet her at the gate every time without fail.

This right here is a waste of time, and a waste of effort.

There's no reason for the way he feels his mouth twitch as his eyes shift once more upon the wall clock. Maybe he was right. Maybe he is a fidgeting mess.

No. _Naruto is anything—literally anything—but right_.  
He's fine. He's just got jitters from being away from missions longer than expected.

He'll ask Kakashi for a mission tomorrow.  
He'll get a mission that gets him out of these quite mundane days.

He won't.  
 _Who the fuck is he trying to kid?_

She isn't back.  
 _What the hell was taking her so long?_

Maybe that's what has him pushing aside the half eaten plate, and ignoring the scroll beside it, maybe that's why he's rested his head upon his hand, and maybe, just maybe, that's what has him clicking his tongue as he follows the hand that turns within the clock.

This is ridiculous it's only been— _who the fuck cares how long it's been?  
_ This is Sakura Haruno— _punctual, and never late Sakura_ _Haruno_.

Naruto wasn't concerned— _but he's not Naruto_.  
Naruto _should_ be concerned.

 _What the hell was the blonde's deal?_

What if something had happened? What if she was having issues on her mission?  
Wasn't this a solo? What if she needed their help?

 _Stop—pause—rewind.  
_ He can't do that to her.

She's not a genin—she's a rank higher than both of them right now.  
There's no reason to act like she can't handle herself.

She's more than capable.

He's pushing up from the table. That dull ache is getting deeper and that's just another thing to make him go from vexation to indignation.

Was this payback? Was she fucking with him?  
No—that's even more ridiculous than Naruto is.

 _Naruto is anything but right—but he's not necessarily always wrong either._

He was always leaving. Traveling. Seeking out the world with clearer eyes.  
She was always waiting. Going through day after day. Welcoming him home.

Did she sit here when he was late and with no word? How often did her eyes glance upon the clock and question where he was and what he had seen? Is this what waiting for someone was like? Is this what she put up with?

This dull ache. This irritation turned to aggravation.  
That aggravation becoming vexation. That vexation morphing into indignation.

The grind of his teeth has his jaw tightening and mouth shifting. Bottom lip between teeth and he's become even fed up with even himself at this point. He's going in circles, and there's nothing productive about what he's doing.

Rustling sheets and a momentary blackout—he's not even sure when he fell asleep as he tossed and turned annoyed with her and annoyed with himself.

Even as his eyes flutter open and sunlight spills inside the room making him yank the comfort off and sitting him he can't stop that annoyance from the night before flooding into his morning.

 _His mother would say he had woken up cranky._

That was then and this is now, and maybe that's what has him changing and heading out the door without even taking the time to make breakfast. The sun feels like it's risen early just to mess with him, and that's why he's heading for the training ground. He needs to at least spend his time doing something.

 _Anything at this point_.  
—yet, this isn't the direction of the training grounds. The streets are filling as he's making his way through the village.

He's a man on a mission and, _so help him god_ , if she comes home today he has no clue what he's going to say with all this build up.

Footstep after footstep.  
The yell of the blonde, and ignoring him just the same.

Naruto's caught the unspoken hint he's in no mood, and as those gates are coming into view and he's making his way forward there's no doubt in his mind that, that small frame, and white cloak are her. There's dry mud splattered upon the bottom of it, and that hood hiding that pale rose and sea foam green.

This pace is a march and it's got his hand tightening and twisting into a fist before he's right before her. Those small hands gloved in leather pull back her hood, and before he can even begin to open his mouth she's beat him to it, "I'm home, Sasuke-kun."

It's a cheeky little smile across her face and the way her teeth show as she looks up at him—that's all it takes to make that annoyance caught in his throat and his shoulders roll back. That ache is calm and nonexistent. The fluttering of lashes and then the dip of his vision from her to the ground.

He's feeling sheepish—self-conscious about how he's strolled up to her, "Welcome home. Sakura."

"Sakura-chan! You shoulda seen it! He waited for you every damn day!"

He chokes openly and the whip of his head as his hand flying out of his pocket to stare the blonde down. Evidently Naruto hadn't caught the hint— _he was going to murder him_.

Mouth open and eyes far to wide. Throat dry, and warmth creeping up his throat.

"Oh? Ah, is that so? Sorry Sasuke-kun. I had sent word to Kakashi-sensei that somethings had come up. I thought he would have told you my change in date." she's tilting her head to try and gain his attention.

She had sent word.  
They had _neglected_ to tell him.

This is why Naruto wasn't concerned.  
This was Sakura Haruno—punctual and always sure to send word.

This sure as hell wasn't her doing— _it was theirs_.

Embarrassment? Anger? Maybe it was both.  
Maybe that's what the warm feeling is creeping upon his face.

Whatever it is doesn't matter.

" _Naruto._ "


	2. Far Worse Things

x.x.x  
Title: Far Worse Things  
Prompt: where sasuke is quite angry with sakura , deservingly so, but also its sasuke only who ends up with pacifying and wining her over.  
Idea: Anon from Tumblr  
Note: Tbh brah I'm not really satisfied with this. . .but hopefully you are OTL.

* * *

This woman. Insufferable. Ridiculous. Absolutely should have known better.

 _Yet, here they are_.

He's fuming. Of all the things he would expect his wife to do this is definitely one he should have seen coming, and yet not only has she done this once before—but now it's twice.

Ten long years away and he comes back to having to stay within a hotel. His wife has destroyed their home in a fit of anger. He's known her for so long and yet that flare of hers never seems to dissipate even as time goes on.

He feels a headache coming on as he begins to think of the finances he's going to have to figure out with this news. Fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease himself.

"Sasuke-san, we'll take care of everything don't stress so much." Shizune lets out the smallest of laughs.

This woman is fidgeting beside him. She know he's not pleased. She knows there's a touch of livid upon him with every movement he makes, and she's falling into that behavior he expects of her just the same.

Fingers twisting in front of her—clasping and unclasping. Eyes darting in every direction but towards him—one of the only times she won't look to him. Weight shifting from one foot to the other. Shoulders sagging and a touch of solemn washing from her.

"I appreciate it." his voice has a subtle strain to it as he seeks to keep himself from exploding in front of others.

This is a discussion they'll need to have nonetheless. Naruto, and everyone around them has done their best to help him, and his family as he traveled in an attempt to keep the peace they had finally gained.

Silent and shifting on his heel he's making his way out with his wife trailing behind.

This woman—she's walking behind him not beside him. He's livid and fuming but that's no excuse for this. This is what he expects though. Only if he's done something to upset her do the tables turn. Sakura wasn't one to anger and yet, it's that exact thing that has brought them to this moment.

There's a temptation to see if she's hanging her head instead of presenting herself as she should—he knows better she wouldn't do that in a public setting. That'll come when they're inside their hotel room. Unified force is what they display in front of the village.

Their problems are meant only for them—not even in front of team seven would they let their issues spill over.  
They don't have many but when they do it's kept close .

The shift of his mouth comes as they walk into the hotel and up to their hotel room. It's small but comfortable. Sarada wouldn't be back yet. They'd need to get this done and over with before she returned from Naruto's home.

They're barely inside the door before she's spilling an apology, "Anata—I'm sorry."

He's turning taking her in.

That head's hung low just as he expects. Those fingers of hers are wrapped upon her arm. Those sea foam green won't dare a glance his way and stay fixated on the wall.

"What was it this time?"

". . .I just got a bit frustrated." she's mumbling forth.

"Frustrated? Sakura you brought our house to the ground— _a second time._ " the scowl upon his face is evident upon every word.

"Sarada had—"

"No." he's very final upon this small two letter word, "You're not dragging Sarada into this."

Her head swings up and those sea foam green find his obsidian instantly, "I wasn't dragging her into it! Let me finish."

"Finish? Finish what? You brought our home to the ground. Did you even thi—" she's effectively cut him off and along with it her brows of come to pinch showing her frustration suddenly finding its way past the solemn.

"You're not the one being accused of lying about our marriage!" she's got those fists balled and standing her ground—this was still no excuse for bringing their house down.

"Did you forget that she just asked me about our marriage?" he shifts his weight upon his hip as fingers make their way upon it.

"Sasuke!"

That has his eyebrow raising. She's dropped his name without affection. He needs to watch what he says next. What's said can be forgiven but never taken back. Those words would linger forever. He's always managed to remember that regardless of any disagreement they've ever had and he's not about to forget it now.

" _Sakura_."

That doesn't change the fact that he's growing increasingly impatient with her right this minute. He feels the warmth upon his ears and the headache growing, "This isn't how I expected to come home—to a hotel of all places while everyone gets us settled into an apartment."

"You think I wanted you to come home to this?" she's accusing right back at him.

"I never said that." he's mumbling out with fingers tightening upon his hip, "No—but that's because you don't think. You let your anger get the better of you and this is how we ended up here."

"It wasn't intentional!" her shoulders are shaking.

"I never said it was to begin with!" his voice is raising with each word.

"Sasuke I haven't seen you in ten years and this is how you wanna spend it? Fighting?" her bottom lip trembles slightly as her voice heightens.

 _Oh no_ —she's gonna—  
She's still not applying even the subtlest of affection upon his name.

"Sakura you think I wanna fight with you?" that's enough to make him let out a huff as if to expel even just a touch of his lividity.

"That's what it looks like—I said I was sorry!"

Oh no— _No, No. Here she goes.  
_ This is where things are going to _fall apart on him_.

He can't handle that— _sea foam green glassed over and teeth digging within her bottom lip_.

 _That signals tears. She's gonna start crying.  
_ —and that means he's gotta think _fast_.

No, he didn't want to argue with her as soon as he returned to her side. No, he didn't want to sit in this hotel room getting riled up after ten years away from her.

This woman was truly insufferable. This woman was truly _annoyin_ g in times like this.  
This woman was his wife, though— _and that means the last thing he wants is to see her cry_.

This is the very last thing he wants for them. This is the very last thing he wants for her.

Even after all this time he questions if she knows her tears are a weakness for him. That turn of her back has him stepping forward. The shake of her voice is making him uncomfortable. She's choking back her frustration, and doing another one of her most annoying traits before him—blocking him out as she tries to steady her emotions.

A sigh heavy coated in this overwhelming frustration falls. Fingers run over his face before falling back to his side.

He's definitely fuming but he's not the type of man to let his wife cry. He's livid but at the end of the day Shizune had said she'd take care of things. It might be a few days before they lock down an apartment for the time being, but at least he's home. They'll start rebuilding their house and situate the loans within the coming days.

It's not good—but it's _not_ the most terrible thing in the world.  
 _There's far worse things in the world_.

His jaw tightens and his brows knit together as he glares upon the floor.

Things having a fight with his wife after not seeing her for ten years.  
 _Things like letting his wife cry after not seeing him for ten years_.

His angers not lessening fast enough, but that's not the current issue here. She absolutely knows better than to let herself become that frustrated over the stubborn, and accusatory nature their daughter evidently has acquired from him.

Swallowing the frustration is what he'll have to do. None of this is worth fighting over when she's like this. A destroyed home is a far better thing to come home to then being too stubborn to comfort his wife.

" _Sakura_." his voice is low and his eyes are upon that crest sitting upon her back.

She's not silent but there's a physical tremble that slides down her shoulders and makes it clear she's trying to rein herself back in. She knows better absolutely, but she's his wife and she's already had to be plenty patient with him even before their marriage.

He clears his throat in hope it'll shake some of the tension off his voice. Extending his hand he calls her name once more, "Sakura." gaining her attention effectively.

Her nose is red, and those eyes are undeniably wet. It's a few seconds of silence—just a moment or two—before she's before him and wrapping her arms around his neck as a shudder falls from her.

His cheek lays against her pale rose, and his fingers make their way within it just the same. She's apologizing again, and he's responding softly within her ear, "It's fine."

"I didn't mean for you to come home to this." that voice of hers is shaky as she keeps her head pressed against his shoulder.

He's doing his best to ease her and shut down this fight before it can escalate once again whether by his mouth or hers, "I know you didn't."

The click of the door catches his attention and there's a peek of his daughter within it. He moves his mouth softly so as not to cause his wife alarm. The words are simple—he's simply asking her to give them a moment.

He doesn't need her seeing them arguing. No, definitely not after she had begun to question their marriage so heavily. He doesn't need her getting any other crazy ideas within her head.

There's the smallest of nods. It doesn't look like she's caught onto the fact this isn't her mother overly excited to have him home. The click that follows has him rubbing soothing motions upon his wife's scalp. Another apology falls from her making him press her just a bit firmer against him. She's dropped his name affectionately once more.

He's still fuming but it doesn't really matter at this point, "I'm sorry for getting so angry." those shoulders aren't as tense as they stop their shake.

Movement from his shoulder makes it clear she's turning to look up at him, "Get cleaned up Sarada could come back at any minute."

The nod of her head comes and it's as if almost reluctant to let him go—there's the need to keep her right where she is just the same. There's time for that later. Right now Sarada's just outside the door waiting patiently. She has to come first. He's missed a lot with both of them, and he can't be letting that be overshadowed by anything else.

"I'm going to go pick up Sarada from Naruto's."

She's already pressing a cool cloth upon her eyes as she peeks out from the bathroom, "That should give me enough time—I'll start figuring out how and what we're doing for dinner."

A nod is his reply, and as his fingers touch upon the handle he stops for just a second or two, "Sakura."

That pale pink and then those sea green make themselves present as she leans out from the bathroom once again, "I'm happy to be home."

The flutter of her lashes come and then her mouth starts to spread, "Welcome home, Anata."

The curve of his mouth can't be stopped. It's a subtle smirk upon the corner of his lips before he's opening the door and closing it softly behind him.

"Let's go for a walk."

This child brought forth from both of them is so obviously confused as to why their not going inside. Ten years he's been away from this child that claims to look only like him. Little does she realize she's so much more like her mother with facial expressions like that.

Sakura had worked so hard in those ten years, and while this child had sadly gained all of his stubbornness he's far more interested in seeing which traits of his wife she's acquired more.

That woman. She was insufferable, ridiculous, and she absolutely knew better.  
That woman was his wife, though— _and that means the last thing he wants is_ _to_ _argue with her_ _after having missed her so much_.


	3. Feelings and Heart

x.x.x  
Title: Feelings and Heart  
Idea: SasuSakusss on Tumblr  
Prompt: "I thought I lost you" and 100% inspired by yomi-gaeru artwork "His side of the story"

* * *

To need was never a question. To want was something even less. He had a singular goal. One simple, and yet undeniably complex goal. Nothing but that was the forefront. The only concern. The only thing that held tight within his mind.

Feelings. They're a disgusting and very human thing.  
He couldn't be human with a goal that twist moral compasses and moral lines.

They're messy. They get in the way.  
They unnecessary for his goal. His plan.  
 _His future_.

That's why he can't let them tie him up, and tie him down.  
That's why he's moving forward and cut all those disgusting and so very human things away.

Because that's what he has to do as an avenger— _that's what he was meant for_.  
Title of heir be gone, and in it's place that of one meant to get revenge for those who could no longer.

He doesn't need a lot to do this. He doesn't want for something messy or disgusting. What he will do is simple cause and effect. Complex in how it will be achieved and nothing short or less.

 _To inflict a punishment or penalty_ —that's what he was born to do.

That heart he's built walls around. It's been barricaded to perfection. It's just another thing that's so undeniably messy, and meant to get in his way. It'll slow down his foot work. It'll tamper with his mind. It'll make him hesitate when he swings his sword— _and when those eyes glow_.

That's why he keeps it locked up tight with no key.

He's not a little boy anymore. His feet are no longer small and seeking to carry him away. His hands aren't too small to wrap around the hilt of his sword as he stands firm against those who decided to misjudge their place. There's no more heart as he stares down the road littered with bodies— _he's the one creating them_.

This hatred may be heavy, but it's lighter than just letting go. It's a purpose and a line cut in the sand. He stepped over it long ago. Nothing and no one would shake this resolve. This determination.

 _This calling_.

No—he doesn't need much. All that's required is power. He's sold himself long ago. This is all that he could want for. Power was but a construct brought by mortal minds. All one needed to defeat and to complete this calling of his.

Without feelings he won't revert to that child crying and submerged in terror. Without heart he won't tremble as he cuts another person's loved one down. He's lost too much. They can all feel the way he does, and when the time comes they too can follow the path he's walked.

They'll just have to gain even more power than even he has.  
They'll have to sell more than what he has—if they even have anything more to give.  
— _because he's given away every part of himself in the name of this goal_.

He is the heir to the Uchiha clan.  
He is Sasuke Uchiha, and he is an avenger.

 _Sasuke Uchiha is powerful_.

So when this woman he's thrown aside and left upon the bench yells to him it's an _issue_ on a deeper scale. When this woman who begged for him to stay before he abandoned them sits here begging once again makes his foot shift it's a _problem_. When this woman who cried back then is crying once more and it produces a tremble he has to suppress he knows immediately she's a _complication_.

That beat inside his chest isn't meant to take place from a simple show of tears. He's seen so many of them now. They're there when he cuts the next obstacle out of his way, and in the memories he's had to push aside. Tears—they're a display so digusting and revolting.

Such messy things.

He cut his bond with her so this wouldn't happen. He cut her out, and threw her away as if she was nothing— _so when she sits there and cries it's something that shouldn't affect him_.

She meant nothing then, and she'll mean nothing now.  
He doesn't need _her_ tears.

There's no reason why her eyes should glow through such tears. He's the one with power, and eyes that could do so much more. He could turn her world, and warp it till she broke and crumbled. Yet, he hasn't done it yet. It hurts when she looks at him like that. His heart shouldn't waver nor sink from those viridian. It's heavy and without place. It holds no right to be where it sits— _it should be locked away and yet those viridian are peering deep within._

It's enough to rile him up. Send his mind running. He's got to do what he has too. He can't let this woman keep him from his goal. He's given up everything for it—he can't let her take it away with words, and looks.

That's why he turns from her and shows his back. He needs to remind her she's unimportant. That she is no one in his world, and will never be someone in his world.

That's why when his fingers curl within his palm and his other hand twists within his shirt he's vexed. He's angry and knows there's no choice, but to get rid of her here and now. If she doesn't exist she can never stop him. She can never make him waver.

He had been too kind back then.  
Too kind in letting her live.

He's older now. Wiser even more.  
So he knows he'll kill her once and for all.

 _She'll never be important_.  
He threw her away just as he had his title of heir— _but it seems she's far too stubborn to know what's best for her_.

Perhaps that's what has him twist quickly, and rush forward without remorse. She never expects it, and neither do the others. He has no time to play romance—he has no future with that.

Now she doesn't either as her blood spills like an old bitter wine.  
Soaking and spilling from here his hand sits protruding from her chest.

Those tears just keep falling though—and that mouth keeps moving.

He was powerful that's what he thought.  
He was Sasuke Uchiha, and Sasuke Uchiha held power.

That's what he believes—wants to believe.  
Yet he isn't to want for anything more than just power.

Needs and wants—she had caused this disgusting mess.  
 _These so very human emotions_.

They're so unnecessary.  
More so than even herself.

 _She would of taken all of his pain onto herself if she could have_.

That's what she claims.  
This woman needs to be buried deep within the earth.

Why was she so annoy—

 _Startled_.

He is alarmed and unprepared so when he shoots up within his bed, and his fingers twist almost painfully within the sheets he's not sure what to make of it all. His breathing has escalated, and then there's the sweat that drips from his head. The desperate attempt for oxygen has him shaking before he feels the press of fingers upon his back.

"Anata?" that voice of hers sounds so similar to when she had cried for him to stop—frightened and pained.

The drag of his eyes comes so slow as if staring at her will turn these sheets red—redder than even that of his birthright. Vision shaky but daring a glance. She's exactly as she should be wrapped within the sheet he's clutched upon for dear life. There's nothing within her chest.

His hand hasn't ripped through her without remorse for the sake of his vendettas, "What's wrong?"

All too familiar and close those fingers are grabbing a hold of his face with nothing else but him holding her attention. The press of his head against her chest as him all the more startled.

Feelings. They're messy and so very human.  
He had finally allowed himself to feel something and be tied down.

He was tied to her in a way that could never be changed—the wedding band upon his lone figure proof enough.

Heart. It caused him to hesitate, and it was heavy in its place.  
He had finally lowered the walls and welcome her within them.

 _Given her a key he didn't even know there was_ —perhaps it had always existed since that night she had begged him to stay.

She had been something— _and that's why he releases his grip from the sheets to press his fingers upon her back_.

He had lost one of his hands in which to hold onto her. If he had not let go of her once before telling himself repeatedly she had been always been something perhaps he'd still have two.

"It'll be okay." her voice is low as she seeks to comfort him and give more of herself to him.

He had sold his soul, and he had soul his being.  
She was giving him everything she could just the same.

 _Selling everything she had down to her name_.

She was the someone who gave more than even he could. That's why she's here beside him.  
Unwavering, and firm.

He had thought he lost her. His mind had twisted and turned just like what he could do to others with a simple glance. Karmatic in reminding him his blessings, and what all he should consider himself lucky to have gained.

He had lost it all—and he could have lost her too thanks to him being an avenger.

The words are coming up and no voice behind it to follow.  
Just a shift of his mouth— _I thought I lost you_.


End file.
